


The Other Side

by PR Zed (przed)



Category: Take That
Genre: Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/pseuds/PR%20Zed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would never have happened if Mark hadn't gone to Nigel's party that Friday night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**trope_bingo**](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) challenge. Trope used: genderswap. Thanks, as always, to my first reader, the lovely [soundofthesurf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofthesurf/pseuds/soundofthesurf), to m. butterfly for her impeccable editing skills, and to [halotolerant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofthesurf/pseuds/halotolerant) for helping to make it a better story.

It would never have happened if Mark hadn't gone to Nigel's party that Friday night. 

He hadn't wanted to go. His usual good nature seemed to have deserted him weeks ago and he wasn't sure he could fake it for the two hours he knew he'd need to socialize at the party. He was exhausted from the rehearsals and the gigs, he was tired of taking stick from Nigel, of being told that Nigel could find another boy from Oldham to replace him if he didn't measure up. But most of all he was confused. He was confused by the feelings that bubbled up every time he looked at Robbie, every time Robbie looked at him. He was confused by the way he felt when they played the gay clubs, when he saw two men dancing or hugging or kissing.

But he couldn't not go to the party. It was a royal command performance. "There'll be record company people there, lads, and we still need a deal," Nigel had said. "Don't be late." So he got carefully dressed, pasted on his best smile, and made his way to Nigel's place.

It didn't take long for things to go wrong. No one seemed to have time for him. Gary was being chatted up by a couple of record executive types. Howard and Jason were surrounded by a gaggle of older women and a few older men who were completely uninterested in a short teenager. And most disappointingly, Rob was ignoring him in favour of a couple of fit London girls. He tried not to pay attention to the falling feeling in his stomach as one of the girls leaned in and kissed Rob thoroughly, even as he tried to sort out who he was jealous of, Rob or the girl snogging him.

Fighting the vaguely nauseous feeling in his stomach, he snagged a glass of wine from a passing tray and found a place to hide. He was stuck in a corner behind a potted plant, working on his third glass of wine, when one of Nigel's friends spotted him.

He wasn't Nigel's usual sort of friend. Those were usually chatty, friendly gay men who Mark got on with far better than their manager. This man didn't wasn't at all chatty and not the slightest bit camp. He was tall and imposing, with an impeccably tailored suit, thick dark hair, and piercing brown eyes that Mark felt were boring right through him. Mark looked for an escape route, but the man made straight for him, boxing him into his corner.

"You must be Mark," the man said, his voice a rich baritone, his accent somewhere north of Manchester and south of Scotland. "Nigel told me you're as pretty as any girl."

The way the man said it sent a shiver down Mark's spine, and he had to restrain himself from recoiling from his offered hand. The man's handshake was firm, strong, and intimidating, and Mark shook it off as soon as he politely could.

"I'm not a girl." Even to his own ears, Mark sounded tetchy and rude, but he couldn't help it. He was tired, slightly drunk, and he'd had it with being constantly told he looked like a girl. He wished, not for the first time, that he was as tall as Howard, or at least not quite so slight.

"There's nowt wrong with being a girl, laddie," the man said with a frown.

"But I'm _not_ a girl," Mark repeated emphatically, knowing somehow that this was going off the rails badly and wondering where it was going to end up.

"Hmmm," the guy said, then he leaned forward. Before Mark knew it, he'd pulled out a bit of Mark's hair.

"Ow!" Mark's hand went to his head. "That hurt. What did you do that for?"

"Call it a memento." And then he turned on his heel and was gone.

"Nutter," Mark muttered, even as he felt a shudder, as if someone had walked over his grave. He shook off the feeling and went in search of more wine.

* * *

Mark woke up lying on his face, feeling as if someone was hammering on his skull from the inside, as if his skin was stretched too tight on his frame. He couldn't remember how much he'd drunk, couldn't remember much of anything after he'd run into Nigel's weird friend. He couldn't even remember how he'd made it home. Assuming he _was_ home.

He cracked one eye slightly open and confirmed he was in his own bedroom. There were his Liverpool posters on the wall, his stereo and football trophies on the dresser, and Daniel's bed across the room. Daniel, blessedly, wasn't in it. The last thing he needed was for his little brother to be bouncing around the room when he was hung over.

He slowly sat up, the need to take a piss making itself known. Standing gingerly, he made his way down to the loo, grateful that for once he didn't have to fight anyone else for it. He shut the door, reached down, only to find the impossible: no dick. He looked down, and sight confirmed what touch had told him. He had no dick, no balls, only the soft mound he'd seen on the girls he'd slept with.

Panic rose in his throat. He wasn't dreaming; the cold tiles under his bare feet felt real enough. He was hungover, but definitely not drunk. And he didn't feel at all like the one time Rob had talked him into taking acid, so it wasn't that he was on drugs. His body had changed.

Fear spreading through his veins like cold fire, he felt his chest, and instead of flat planes felt the curves of adolescent breasts. Looking in the mirror, he could see now that even his face had changed. His jaw was narrower, his features more delicate, and the little amount of peach fuzz that he'd started finding on his cheeks in the mornings was nowhere to be found. At least his hair looked the same.

He was a girl. He'd fucking been turned into a girl.

He wanted to scream, to hit the wall, but that would bring his mum up and that was one thing he couldn't take right now. Instead, he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

What the fuck was he going to do? He needed to tell someone, but he had no idea who. He couldn't tell his parents, and Daniel would be useless. And if he called Rob or any of the other boys and told them what had happened, he knew they'd just think he was taking the piss.

He sat on the side of the tub, head in his hands, and heard the strains of Kylie Minogue drifting down the hall from Tracy's room.

Tracy. Tracy could help him out. She was a girl. In some mad corner of his panicked mind, that made his sister the best person to turn to. He ran down the hall and knocked frantically on her door.

"Go away." Tracy's voice was full of typical little sister annoyance.

"C'mon, Tracy. Let me in." Bloody hell, even his voice was higher.

"Go away, Daniel."

"It's Mark."

"Go away, Mark."

"I really, _really_ need your help."

Either some of his desperation had finally sunk in, or Tracy was just sick of telling him to go away, because her door opened a crack and she peered out at him suspiciously.

"What do you want?"

"Let me in, Tracy."

"Tell me what you want, first."

"I can't tell you out here. Mum'll kill me if she hears."

"You didn't get some girl pregnant, did you?"

"No! Why would you even think that?"

"I hear things. I know what Mum worries about." She got an evil grin on her face. "You didn't get Robbie pregnant!"

"Don't be stupid," Mark said, even as he felt his face flush. He knew it had been a mistake to tell her that he fancied Robbie a bit. "Let me in, Tracy. I'll do anything. I'll get Jason to talk to you. I'll do your chores for a week. Just please let me in."

"Oh, all right." She threw open the door and waved him into the room with the book clutched in her hand, then threw herself on the bed and stuck her nose back in the bloody book. She was always reading, always bringing back stacks of books from the library. She'd read anything, classics to Mills and Boon, thrillers to science fiction, but fantasy was always what she read most. Mark had started joking that she'd be better at finding her way around Narnia than Manchester.

Mark shut the door firmly behind him and followed her into the room. 

"Now, what's so earth shattering that you couldn't tell me in the hall?" she said without so much as looking up at him

Mark opened his mouth to speak and found himself at a loss for what to say. Because whatever he said would sound naff, would sound impossible. So instead he turned Kylie off on the stereo and pulled his t-shirt up to his chin.

Tracy turned towards him, probably to yell at him for turning off her music, but she froze when she saw him. Whatever reaction he'd been expecting to the sight of his very adolescent but very obvious breasts—surprise, disbelief, horror—it hadn't been laughter.

"It's not funny," Mark said, pulling his shirt firmly down again.

Tracy didn't stop laughing. If anything, she laughed even harder, until it gradually dawned on Mark that his sister wasn't amused, she was hysterical.

"Tracy." He sat beside her and shook her shoulder gently, then harder. "Stop it. You've got to stop it. You don't want Mum to come in."

The threat of their mother finding her hysterical and Mark a girl seemed to get through to her. With a hiccup, she finally stopped laughing.

"You're a girl!" she said, her eyes wide.

"Yeah."

"You're really a girl." She started to giggle, and Mark feared she was going to get hysterical again, but then he realized that this time she was genuinely amused. "My friends have always said you look like a girl. And now they're right."

"I'm _not_ a girl." Mark hissed the words out.

"You've got the right equipment to be a girl. Do you match down below?" Tracy reached for the waistband of his boxers, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Yes." He swatted her hand away.

"Then you, Mark Owen, are a girl."

He'd been hoping Tracy would tell him it was all a mistake, a hallucination, a dream. But to have her confirm this insanity knocked the wind out of him. He suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe, as if the room were spinning around him.

"Put your head down, Mark." Tracy put her hand on the back of his head, and stroked his hair as he bent over and tried desperately not to throw up or pass out. "You're looking white as a ghost."

"I can't be a girl." His voice sounded even higher than before. "I don't know how to be a girl."

"We're people, just like you," Tracy said.

"My life is over."

"Oi, there's nothing wrong with being a girl." Tracy gave him a smack in the back of the head.

"That's what he said."

"Who?"

"Nigel's friend." The mere thought of the man raised gooseflesh on Mark's arms. "At least I think he was a friend of Nigel. He was at the party. A right weirdo, he was. He told me there was nothing wrong with being a girl, then he pulled out a piece of my hair and disappeared."

"He pulled out a piece of your hair?"

"Yeah."

"Did he say anything?"

"He called it a memento, and then he walked away." He looked up at his sister. "Why?" 

Tracy was looking down at the floor with her face screwed up.

"It must have been him," she said, making no sense whatsoever.

"What must have been who?"

"It must have been Nigel's friend who did this to you."

"How could anyone do this to me?"

"Magic."

"Magic?" Mark's voice squeaked. "This isn't one of your piggin' books, Tracy." He picked up the paperback she'd abandoned on the bed and threw it across the room, where it landed with a satisfying thud. The title, _Witch Week_ , stared back at him mockingly. "There's no such thing as magic."

"'Course there is. How else do you explain you being turned into a girl?"

"This is insane."

"It's the only explanation, Mark. Admit it. Nigel's friend is a witch, or a sorcerer, or a magician, and he took your hair to make a spell. Find the man and get your hair back and you'll be back to normal." She gave him a wary look. "Well, as normal as you ever are," she said with a sniff.

"Thanks so much, Tracy." Things couldn't be entirely dire if Tracy was slagging him off. And he had to admit, her insane theory was beginning to sound less like she'd been reading too many fantasy books and more like the truth.

"So all you have to do is hide that you're a girl until you can get changed back."

"How can I hide this?" He gestured at his chest. "We're always having to do rehearsals and photo shoots shirtless."

"Hmmm." Tracy thinned her lips and wrinkled her nose and looked at him as if he were a difficult maths problem she was trying to solve. "I've got an idea."

* * *

Tracy's idea had involved baggy clothes, one of Mark's own vests, and the support bandage Mark had used when he'd wrenched a knee playing football. They'd bound his breasts in place with the bandage until they'd barely made a bump, then put on a vest, a t-shirt, and a bulky hoodie top, and finished it all off with a pair of trackie bottoms. (His jeans not fitting over his curvier hips had been one more thing Mark had panicked over when he was trying to find something to wear. The trackie bottoms had been the only thing that fit.) At least his trainers still fit perfectly.

"I'm going to boil to death in all of this," Mark had said.

"It's boil to death or admit you're a girl," Tracy had replied as she'd seen him out the door. "And besides, it's winter. You'll be fine."

"I suppose." He worried at his lip, wondering how he was going to survive the next few days, and wondering if things would ever get back to normal. 

"I know I was taking the piss earlier, Mark, but it's going to be fine." Tracy patted his shoulder, and then she frowned. "But you know how I was joking about you getting Rob pregnant? Don't you let him get _you_ pregnant."

"Tracy!"

"I'm serious, Mark. You use protection."

"I'm not going to have sex with Rob!"

"You told me you fancied him."

"That was before. It's more complicated now."

"Or it's easier." She shook him gently. "You look after yourself, big brother."

"Yes, little sister."

Mark snuck out of the house without him mum seeing him, and got to Manchester in less time than usual, but he was still the last one to arrive at the rehearsal studio. He peered in the door, wishing they hadn't scheduled a rehearsal for Saturday, hoping desperately that no one noticed there was something different about him, and that someone knew who Nigel's mysterious friend had been. He was also trying to not think about what Tracy had said about Rob. Sex in this body wasn't something he wanted to think about. In fact, thinking about sex in this body felt all wrong. He felt tingly in bits he'd been trying to ignore, and was missing entirely the thing that had most defined sex for him. Although he had to admit, not having a dick to get hard every time a sexual thought drifted through his head was a definite advantage. He suddenly wondered if girls thought about sex as much as boys did, and felt even more tingly for his troubles.

"Markie!" Rob came bouncing over. "What happened to you last night? I came looking for you and you were gone."

Mark started at Rob's greeting, and hoped his face didn't feel as red as it felt. 

"I was just a bit tired," he said, fumbling for an excuse. "Decided to leave early."

"You missed a brilliant party." Rob gave him his widest smile, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. "I pulled a couple of stunners. Thought you might want to share."

"It's not like Nigel would have let you do much," Mark said, ignoring what he'd wanted to do to Rob.

"That's as much as you know," Rob said, smug grin firmly in place.

Before Rob could let drop any more details Mark didn't want to know, Paul, their choreographer/drill sergeant, yelled across the studio.

"Nice of you to join us, Owen." Mark sometimes wondered if Paul ever didn't sound sarcastic. "Now, if you two don't mind, we've got some choreography to learn. Nigel's left me in charge of you lot today and I don't want to take any stick for you not working."

Mark was relieved to hear Nigel wouldn't be here today, and glad for the distraction of the dancing. He wanted to concentrate on something else besides what had happened to him. Except that it turned out dancing made him think about nothing else but how different his body was. His balance seemed off, and he was practically tripping over his own feet."

"C'mon, Owen," Paul shouted after Mark had failed yet again to do the shoulder spin he'd perfected just this week." "You're giving Barlow some competition for the sad-dancer-of-the-week competition today."

"Hey," Gary said, though without too much conviction. Even Gary knew he wasn't there for his dancing skills. 

As the afternoon dragged on, Mark started working out what he needed to do different, how he needed to land on the spins, where his centre of gravity had shifted. He found he may have lost some raw strength, but he'd gained flexibility, and he found by the time the rehearsal had ended that he was enjoying the movement again. He was feeling, well, not quite himself, but good.

"Good rehearsal, Mark." Howard clapped him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, the shoulder spins are definitely coming along," Jason told him as he pushed Howard towards the changing room.

"I don't know how you lot can do that." Gary grimaced. "I can barely do the simple stuff."

"That's why you've got us, Gaz." No one could grin like Jason Orange. "We're here to make you look good."

"Well, the only thing that's going to make me look good at the moment is a shower."

The shower.

Fuck, Mark had forgotten they always showered after a rehearsal. They needed to. They were all dripping with sweat from the effort, and today under all his layers of clothing he was worse than ever. But he couldn't shower. Not today. Not if he didn't want them all to find out his secret.

Mark grabbed his jacket and started easing out the door.

"I've just remembered, I've got to go. My… mum asked me to help with some stuff."

He turned and started walking as fast as he could without seeming panicked, but then he heard footsteps behind him and broke into a run in the hallway.

"No you don't," Robbie said, his voice full of the glee of the chase.

Mark sped up, but he knew how this would end, how it always ended. He had the speed from long hours spent on the football pitch, but Rob and his long legs would always catch up to him. And when they did…

"Oof." He went down under Rob's weight, the air knocked out of him. Normally that would be it, the end of the game. Rob would haul him to his feet and they'd go back to what they were doing. But today it wasn't a game, and Mark could only think of how badly he needed to escape. 

He fought back against Rob with a strength born of panic. Rob wasn't expecting the fight, but once he realized what Mark was doing, he didn't let go, didn't relent. Mark was concentrating so much on escaping that he didn't notice when the binding holding his breasts in came loose. He only noticed something was wrong when he felt Rob stop fighting him, saw Rob frown and then look in his eyes in shock.

"Markie?"

Rob knew. Rob fucking well knew.

Mark gave Rob a push in the chest that finally dislodged him, and then he was off and running, taking the stairs down to the ground floor two at a time, pushing out the building's front door, and emerging into the cold air of the early evening without looking back even once.

* * *

"You've got to come out of there some time, Mark." Tracy sounded far too reasonable.

"No, I don't." He was lying on his stomach, his face jammed into the pillow, wondering if the magic that turned him into a girl could also be used to make him just vanish. Puff of smoke and he'd be gone and he wouldn't have to feel this miserable.

"You've got to eat. Mum left me in charge when she and Dad when out tonight. She'll have me if I let you starve."

"'M not hungry."

"You'll have to let Daniel in there some time."

"He can sleep on the couch."

"Bloody hell, I give up." 

Mark heard the sound of her feet in the hall and down the stairs, and only when he was sure she was gone did he allow himself to relax. A little bit, anyway.

His life was over. He was a girl, and his best friend in the band knew it. Which probably meant all the boys knew it. He'd known Rob less than a year, but he knew he was shit at keeping secrets. He'd never manage to keep one this big.

Fuck.

He rolled onto his back, pulling the pillow into his arms and hugging it tight. What was he going to do? He needed to find Nigel's magician friend, but he couldn't see how he was going to do it. He'd need to leave this room, for a start, and there was no way he was doing that. He was going to spend the rest of his life stuck in this room. He'd become a legend in Oldham. _Whatever happened to Mark?_ his friends would say. _Wasn't he supposed to be in a band? He must be dead._

He stared at the ceiling, letting his thoughts spin more and more out of control, until he finally heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Two sets of footsteps.

"Open up, Mark." Tracy was never going to give up. She'd probably brought Daniel up to help. Not that he was going to listen to Daniel any more than he'd listened to her.

"Go away, Tracy. Please." Why didn't she understand how much he needed to be left alone?

"Just remember, you asked for it," Tracy said. Then there was a clicking at his door and before he could get to his feet she had picked the lock and was opening it, one of Mum's knitting needles in her hand. Her expression wasn't as triumphant as he'd have expected. It was grim. "You've got a guest," she said, then reached out, grabbed whoever it was who'd come up with her, and pushed him into the room. "You two need to talk. Just get yourself sorted out before Mum and Dad come back home." She slammed the door and then it was just the two of them in the room. Him and Rob.

Fucking hell.

Mark sat up on the bed, the pillow still clutched in front of him as if it could offer him some protection. At least it was hiding his ridiculous breasts from Rob.

Rob stared at him, head cocked to one side, a grin on his face that Mark knew from experience was the expression he got when he didn't know what to say. He usually got that expression right before he said something ridiculous.

"So, have you played with your tits yet?"

Mark felt his jaw drop.

"Because that's the first thing I would have done. If I got changed into a girl. Which I didn't think was even possible, but there you've gone and done it."

Mark tried to speak and found he couldn't manage it.

"So, have you? Played with your tits?"

Mark did the only thing he could: he threw the pillow at Rob.

"That's all you can say? Something this impossible, this ridiculous happens, and that's what you want to ask me? Not how I turned into a girl, or if I'm okay. But if I've played with my magically produced tits." Mark's voice went higher and higher as he spoke until he sounded like Tracy did when she was in a real strop over a boy or clothes or something her brothers had done to annoy her. "Well, I haven't, okay? I've been too freaked out by what happened to fondle my own body. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah." Rob moved slowly towards him, as if he were a bomb that would go off with the slightest movement. "It does." He sat down beside him. "Are you done now?"

Mark took in a deep breath, and he realized some of the misery he'd been feeling the last few hours had left him. Yelling at Rob really had done some good.

"Yeah."

"Good." Rob put his arm around Mark's shoulders. It was the sort of thing Rob did all the time, but this time it felt different, a bit off. As if Rob was holding back. But he didn't want to think about what that might mean, so he pushed it back in his mind.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Markie." Rob gave him a quick punch on the shoulder, then pulled back, sitting with his back against the wall, slightly out of touching distance. "How did it happen?"

"Now you ask…"

"I do want to know. I just wanted to know about the other more." And there was another of Rob's mad grins. When he looked like that, Mark couldn't be angry with him.

"I think it was one of Nigel's friends at the party. Tracy reckons he's some sort of magician."

"Then he can turn you back?"

"I suppose."

"Then we find him and we make him turn you back. Problem solved."

"It won't be that easy. I didn't even get his name."

"Someone'll know who he was. We could ask Nigel-"

"No!" The mere thought of Nigel finding out what had happened brought Mark's panic back in full force. "You can't tell Nigel anything."

"All right. We'll do it without Nigel. Gaz always knows everyone at those parties."

"Does Gaz know what happened?" Mark felt a gaping hole open in his stomach at the thought of any of the others finding out about this. 

"Well…"

"You told them." It was only what he'd known would happen, but it was still disappointing to find out that Rob had told the others this secret, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, worse than messing up a dance move in front of Howard and Jason, worse than forgetting the lyrics the first time he'd gotten a lead line at a gig.

"You're a girl, Markie. I'd just found out you've turned into a girl! And then you took off, and How asked me what was wrong and I just sort of blurted it out."

"Oh, Rob."

"If it makes you feel any better, none of them believed me. They thought I was on drugs."

"I wish you were on drugs. I wish _I_ was on drugs. I wish this had never happened."

"We'll fix it, Mark." Rob closed the distance between them before Mark could react at all. He gave Mark a hug, a proper hug, not the tentative one he'd given him before. It made Mark feel better, feel like he was still himself, and he hugged back hard. But then the hug changed, got gentler and less brotherly, and Mark suddenly wondered if this was his chance to find out what it would be like to snog Robbie. Because he didn't know if he was gay or if Rob was gay, but Tracy was right. It might be easier this way. It might be alright if he was a girl.

Rob must have caught something of his mood, because he pulled back from the hug and gave him a look that was questioning and unguarded. A look that told him Rob was as intrigued by the possibilities of him being a girl as he was. A look that told him Rob might be up for a snog. Might be up for more than that.

But before either of them could act, there was a pounding on the door.

"Open the door, Mark." It was Tracy again. "Daniel wants in, and Mum and Dad are home, and have you two sorted everything out yet?"

Rob started, and pulled out of Mark's arms, and quick as that, the moment was lost. 

"I should get going." Rob stood and headed for the door. "I'll get the boys together tomorrow. We'll find your magician." 

He opened the door and brushed past Tracy in his hurry to get out, leaving Tracy staring at her brother with her arms crossed and a dubious expression on her face.

"It's alright, Tracy," Mark said, even as he wasn't at all convinced it was true. "It's going to be alright."

* * *

Mark got through the evening without either his mum or dad or Daniel figuring out what had happened to him. He nibbled at the sandwich his mum made for him, mumbled that he was tired, and went to bed early, all without any of them looking at him funny. They were used enough to him being knackered after rehearsals, he supposed. And it's not like any of them would be looking for him to be changed into a girl.

He woke the next morning after the sun was up, and lay in bed until after Daniel had got up and he heard his mum leave for mass, until boredom and anxiety finally drove him to get up. And then he made a mad dash to get to the shower and back without anyone seeing him. He got the bandage sorted himself, pulled out another vest and t-shirt and hoodie and trackie bottoms, and sloped downstairs and slouched on the couch where Daniel and their dad were watching some nature documentary on the chaffinch. He didn't give a toss about birds, but since he couldn't really concentrate on anything it didn't really matter.

"You feeling alright, love?" his mum asked when she got back from church.

"Yeah, Mum."

"It's just you don't seem yourself."

"I'm fine," Mark said, even as he wondered what would happen if he told her how right she was. He gave her a smile that he reckoned looked more suspicious than reassuring. As if to confirm his doubts, she came into the lounge and put her hand on his forehead.

"Leave the boy alone, Marie," his dad said without looking away from the telly. "He's fine."

"You'll tell me if you're sick," his mum said with a significant look that made it clear it was an order, not a request, and then went to hang up her coat.

It was a definite relief ten minutes later when the phone rang.

"I'll get it!" Mark ran for the phone in the hallway. "Hello."

"Markie!" Rob's voice sounded positively cheerful.

"What's up, Rob?"

"I've talked to the boys. They've agreed to meet. Can you be at the Sangam at noon?"

"Yeah." Mark looked at his watch. He could just about make it to Rusholme by then.

"Great. See you then."

Rob rang off, leaving Mark holding the phone and wondering how he was going to face them all when they knew what had happened to him.

Mark made his excuses at home, told everyone there was a band meeting he couldn't miss, pulled on his trainers and jacket and was out the door before anyone could object. 

He managed to miss every bus connection, so by the time he got to the restaurant, the rest of the boys were waiting for him, huddled around a both in the back, plates of veg madras and vindaloo spread out in front of them. 

Mark carefully took the one remaining place at the table, and felt them all staring at him. He felt like an exotic animal at the zoo, or a particularly nasty bug in a scientist's lab.

"Well, go ahead then," he told them, looking them all in the eye, his chin up in defiance. "Take the piss. You know you want to."

After a long pause, Gary was the first to speak.

"To be honest, you don't look that different." Gary's expression was dead serious.

"Thanks so much," Mark said.

"You always have been pretty, Mark," Jason added, not helping at all.

Then Howard shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. 

"Rob's said you haven't played with your tits, but have you had a wank?" Howard asked.

"Howard!" Jason's face went beet red. 

Looking around the table, Mark could see the tips of Gary's ears were starting to blush pink, and Rob was holding in a giggle. Mark thought his own face must be as red as Jason's, because he felt mortified.

"What?" Howard looked around the table as if they were all daft. "I've always wanted to know what it feels like for a girl. Haven't you always wondered? I reckon if I ever get changed into a girl I'll just have loads of sex."

"Fucking hell, Howard," Gary finally managed to choke out.

Mark couldn't help it. He started laughing. Just a chuckle at first, but it soon built to a hysterical giggle that he just couldn't control. There were tears running down his cheeks, and he couldn't breathe, and still he couldn't stop laughing.

The boys at first looked at him with horror, and then Rob started laughing too. And Jason. Then Gary and Howard joined in, until they were falling all over each other.

Mark was the first to recover.

"Thanks, How. That's the first time I've laughed since the party. Since before the party."

"You're welcome, Markie." Howard gave him a smug grin, then turn to look at Jason as if to say, _see, I did the right thing_. Jason's only response was to roll his eyes.

"Rob said you think it was someone at the party who did this." Leave it to Gary to get right to business. Not that Mark didn't appreciate it.

"Yeah. It must have been a friend of Nigel's, but I've never seen him before."

"What did he look like?"

Mark repeated his description of the man who'd upended his life.

"Did any of you see him?"

Jason and Howard shook their heads.

"He doesn't sound like anyone I saw," Jason said.

"I didn't see anyone like that either," Gary said. "Rob said you don't want me to ask Nigel about him."

"No!" Mark felt a little shock of fear at the thought of Nigel guessing his secret. "Not Nigel. And don't tell anyone why you're asking."

"I wouldn't do that, Mark." Gary looked affronted. "I'm not stupid."

Rob snorted, and Gary gave him a smack in the head before turning back to Mark.

"I'll ask around, Markie."

"We all will," Jason chipped in. "We'll find this bloke, whoever he is."

"But what are we going to do with you in the meantime, Markie?" Gary looked at him and chewed his lip.

* * *

What to do with Mark was a problem. They knew they could fool Paul, but Nigel was another story. Nigel had a sixth sense for when they were lying to him. Let Nigel get even a hint of what was wrong, and they knew Mark would be out of the band. And none of them wanted that. So they worked out a system.

On Monday morning, the others went to the studio as usual, and Mark waited around the corner in the coffee shop where they all went on the infrequent breaks Paul gave them. He sat there for what seemed like forever, drinking enough coffee to make his hands shake, and smoking fags from the pack Rob had slipped him as he'd gone into the studio.

After an hour, he looked up to see Rob running into the shop, a broad grin on his face.

"The Wicked Witch of the West isn't in today," he said.

"If Nige ever catches you calling him that—" Mark bit at his lip.

"Well, he's not going to catch me, is he?" He grabbed Mark by the wrist. "Anyway, you can come to the studio. We've told Paul that you thought you were coming down with a cold, but might make a recovery."

"One recovery, coming up." Mark stubbed out the cigarette he'd just lit and headed out the door with Mark.

"And Paul's told us that Nigel's gone for the week. He's doing some business in London."

"So I've got a week to get back to normal." It seemed an impossible feat.

"We'll do it, Mark. You'll see."

They may not have found Nigel's mysterious friend that day, but they did get through the rehearsal without Paul sussing out what had happened to Mark. And Mark was comfortable enough now that he went to the changing room and showered off the sweat with the boys. Though he did shower alone and made the others turn their backs while he got his clothes back on.

* * *

The next day, things went pretty much the same. They worked on the usual routines, sang the usual songs, and distracted Paul any time he seemed to be giving Mark too much attention. 

But then Paul turned them loose for the day, and Howard decided to alter the script once they were all in the changing room.

He'd just come out of the shower, and was drying his sodden curls with a towel, standing as unconcernedly naked as he always did.

"C'mon, Markie," Howard said, looking straight at him. "Get your kit off."

"What?" He couldn't really mean... 

"It's not like we haven't seen you naked before, Mark," Howard insisted, sounding entirely reasonable. "And besides, if I turned into a girl, I'd show the rest of you what I had."

"Leave Markie, alone, How," Jason said. "We're not all exhibitionists like you."

"No, it's alright, Jay," Mark said, even as he was thinking, yeah, why not. He might be a girl, but he was the same person he'd always been. He'd never been bothered about undressing around the others before; there was no reason to be bothered now. No reason not to show the boys what he had. And besides, it might be fun. This was one time he wasn't going to be holding himself up to Howard and Jason and finding himself wanting. He'd seen himself in the bathroom mirror at home, and he knew he had nothing to worry about as a girl. Time to flaunt it a bit. "It's only fair. After all, I've seen what you have."

"If you're sure," Jason said, looking anything but sure as he dried off his lean body. 

"'Course I'm sure," Mark said.

"I have to admit, I'm intrigued," Gary said, a towel wrapped around his own waist.

Mark looked over at Rob, and sitting there in nowt but his pants, he looked as curious to see this play out as the others.

He wasn't about to disappoint them.

He pulled the hoodie top over his head and began to undress, taking his time with each piece of clothing. He folded up his t-shirt and vest, and carefully hung up his trackie bottoms. He unwound the bandage binding his breasts, and slid off the panties Tracy had lent him, and only then did he turn towards the others.

"Fuckin' hell," Howard said, his voice sounding awestruck.

Mark's gaze flicked to Howard, and he saw that Howard's expression was as awed as his voice. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was hanging open.

"You're a girl," Howard said.

"Yeah." Mark ducked his head down again, feeling suddenly very shy.

"You're _really_ a girl."

"I did tell you." 

"And I believed you. I guess I just didn't _believe_ you. If you know what I mean."

Mark did know. Because after four days, he still had moments when he didn't believe it himself. 

"You're kind of gorgeous, Mark," Gary said. 

"Gary's right," Jason chimed in. "I wouldn't half fancy you if you weren't, you know...you."

Mark ventured a look up at his friends. Howard was still looking a bit shocked by it all, but Gary...Gary was looking at him like a starving man at a banquet. When he turned to him, Jay was licking his lips, even as he'd brought his towel up to his waist in a way that looked suspiciously like he was hiding a hard on.

This wasn't at all what he'd expected. Mark swallowed hard and tried to process this effect he'd had on his friends. He'd thought this would be fun, a bit of a lark. Instead, he was feeling…vulnerable. 

He felt like he had every time he'd run into a bigger boy who thought he could bully him because he was small, like he had when someone had made fun of him because they said he looked like a girl. His heart hammered in his chest and he could feel his breathing speed up. He grabbed at his own towel and tried to act as if there was nothing wrong, as if he were just one of the boys, even if he felt anything but.

"You're all mental," he said, trying to make light of it, even as his feelings were spinning rapidly out of all control. He turned to where Rob was sitting, because Rob wouldn't be acting like the others, wouldn't be drooling over him as if he were a fit girl in a pub. Rob would laugh about it, would make a joke. Rob would make him feel like himself.

But Rob wasn't laughing. Rob was sitting motionless, his pants tented by an obvious erection he was doing nothing to hide. His face had gone white, except for two bright spots of red on his cheeks, and his eyes were even wider than Howard's.

Mark fought not to react, even as he struggled to understand what he was feeling. Was it horror? Embarrassment? Was he flattered that Rob was turned on by him? Was he afraid of that? Was he turned on by Rob? Well, fuck that, he knew Rob turned him on. But at this moment he was also scared of Rob, of himself, of the others, of this whole fucking situation. 

He couldn't show any of that, though, could he? Couldn't show anything but matey contempt and aloofness.

He reached out and grabbed Howard's shampoo, the stuff he never let any of them share.

"Because you're all so mental, I'm 'aving this," he said, then turned quickly before Howard could object, before the appearance of calm he'd wrapped himself in shattered like the poor thin thing it was, and made for the showers. He turned on the taps as hot as they'd get and stuck his head right under. He concentrated on the feeling of the water on his scalp, on his shoulders, on his back, and tried not to listen to the murmuring coming from the changing room. He didn't want to know what the others were saying. He just didn't.

He stayed in the shower until the water started to go cold, until he heard the boys file out, one by one. When he was sure he was alone, and the water had gone from tepid to fucking freezing, he finally turned off the taps, wrapped himself tightly in his towel, and walked back to the changing room.

But he wasn't alone.

Rob was dressed now, with his puffy jacket and his cap on, but he was sitting in the same place where he'd left him, with almost the same lost look on his face. Mark felt the blood drain from his own face, and he stumbled on a cracked tile. Pulling his towel more tightly around him, he regained his balance and struggled to find something to say.

"Thought you were gone," was what he finally came up with.

"The others are. I wanted to stay. Make sure you were alright." And yeah, mixed in with the embarrassment, Mark could see the concern in Rob's expression. And somehow, that made the knot in his stomach ease.

"I'm alright," he said, and it was almost true now.

"And I wanted-" Rob broke off whatever he was trying to say and looked down at his feet.

"What?"

"I wanted to say sorry. For...you know."

_For having a hard on? For fancying me? For treating me like a girl?_ Mark nearly blurted all that out, but he couldn't. Because he could hardly give Rob a hard time about all of that when he was confused himself about what was going on.

But he didn't feel vulnerable any more. Not with just Rob here. Rob, who was his friend. Rob, who he fancied. Rob, who might, maybe, possibly fancy him.

"No need, mate." For a second, he was Mark, and this was Rob, and there was no thought of who was a girl and who was a boy, and who fancied who. There was just his friend who needed a bit of affection. He crossed the changing room, and leaned down to give Rob a hug. Rob hugged back, and Mark could feel his cool hands on his bare back. Then Rob leaned in further, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Mark let go in surprise, his hand going to his cheek, even as Rob stood and turned away to leave.

"See you tomorrow, Markie," Rob said, and then he was gone, and Mark was left standing there, mostly confused, but a tiny bit happy.

* * *

Mark stumbled home in a daze. He got to his front door with barely a memory of how he'd got there, ate the dinner his mum had put in the cooker for him, and watched a bit of telly until everyone else had drifted off to bed and it was only him and Tracy sat on the sofa. 

"Do you ever get used to it?" he finally asked as the BBC news droned on about some bleeding cricket match in South Africa.

"To what?"

"To boys acting like idiots around you?"

"Boys are idiots." Tracy put an elbow in his ribs with a grin. "There's no way around it." She laughed at her own joke, but then her expression got serious all of a sudden. "You've been quiet tonight. Did anything happen?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes!" He got flustered as Tracy continued to stare at him, and he realized what she was really asking. "Well, I suppose something did happen, but it wasn't anything bad. It was just...the boys acting like they fancied me. It made me feel..." He trailed off, still not knowing quite how it had made him feel.

"Nobody touched you?"

"No!"

"Thank God for that." Tracy leaned in and put an arm around him, and he suddenly felt like a little brother, not a big one. "Just remember, Mark, they're even more confused than you are. If you like the attention, enjoy it. If you don't, tell them to piss off." 

"It's as simple as that?"

"It's as simple as that." Tracy squeezed his shoulder, and then stood up. "I'm off. Turn out the lights, would you? Mum'll be mad if you leave them blazing."

Mark sat up until he heard Tracy finish moving around upstairs. Then he dragged himself upstairs and to bed. Not that he slept. He lay awake until the deepest part of the night, staring at the ceiling, listening to Daniel breathing, and trying to sort out the feelings coiling around his brain and his guts and his heart. _If things had been normal _, he thought, _if I hadn't got magically turned into a girl, I might have just had a wank and gone to sleep.___

_Oh._

Perhaps Howard had had the right idea after all. He'd been treating this body as if it was borrowed, as if he needed to keep it shiny and new until he had to give it back. But this body was his. It was _him_. He was learning how to dance with it. Perhaps it was time to learn how it felt pleasure.

He glanced over at Daniel, snoring softly in his sleep, then let his hands drift down his torso, testing what felt good. He experimented with pace and pressure, with where his fingers could go. And he found he could bring the pleasure quickly, or make it a long, drawn-out, glorious process.

When he did finally fall asleep, it was with a smile on his face.

* * *

The next morning when he woke, the knot in his stomach that had been there for days was gone. He finally felt good in this new body. Felt fucking fantastic, actually. Felt as if life were full of possibilities he hadn't even considered. 

He sprang out of bed while Daniel was still groaning and hiding under the covers. He showered and dressed while his sister knocked on the locked door, was done with breakfast while his mum was still pulling out the cereal bowls for everyone else, and out the door before anyone. He was even the first one at the studio. Paul found him sitting in front of the door when he came to unlock it.

"Bit keen, aren't you, Owen?" he said, as he blearily juggled his keys and duffle and a cup of coffee.

"The early dancer gets the choreographer," Mark said with a wink.

"Not even you could tempt me before I've had three coffees," Paul said acidly. He threw his duffle in the corner, then sat down to drink his coffee as Mark did his warm-ups.

The rest of the boys trailed in over the next half hour, as they always did. Howard looked as bleary as Paul had, Jason was full of energy. Robbie was a bit manic, and Gary came in uncharacteristically late, but with a bloody great grin on his face. If any of them were feeling uncomfortable over the previous day, they didn't show it, and Mark gave each of them a warm smile and a hug so there'd be no awkwardness between them.

The morning went beautifully. Mark was making huge strides with his dancing. With Howard's help, he was even getting close to cracking a back flip, something he'd never dared try before. Howard would support him, and Mark found he could bend into an arch, and then kick over easier than he'd ever thought possible. There was definitely something to be said for his new, lower centre of gravity. He couldn't make the move look as muscular as How and Jay, but he could make it flow better.

"We'll make a dancer of you yet, Owen," Paul said as Mark managed a flip with nearly no help from Howard.

Then, when Paul called time for a lunch break, something else good happened.

"I've got some news for you," Gary whispered into Mark's ear. "Tell you outside."

Mark was always the slowest of the five of them, but this day he practically dragged Gary out of the studio ahead of the others. 

"Well?" he asked as soon as they were outside.

"Well, what?" Gary looked oblivious.

"What's your news?" Mark thought he might be forced to smack Gary if he had to wait any longer.

"I can't do anything on an empty stomach. Let's get our grub first." He led Mark and the others to their favourite bakery, and then made Mark wait until they'd all emerged from the bakery with their sacks of sausage rolls and butties. But when they were all gathered, he finally told them his news.

"I've found your mystery man, Markie."

"You haven't!" Mark had to restrain himself from jumping up and down and tackling Gary. As it was, he could feel how wide his smile was. 

"I have. Well, actually Ying has. She's been with Nigel in London, but she came back this morning. That's why I was late. I've been checking in at the office for her every day." Ying was the one member of Nigel's team who'd never grassed them up, no matter what they'd done. They all trusted her absolutely. "She knew who he was straight away."

"What's his name?" Mark asked.

"Arthur Richards. She gave me his address—he's on Rectory Road in Crumpsall—but that's not even the best part."

"What's better than knowing his name and address?"

"He called Ying this morning. He's going down to London on Friday and wanted to arrange a meeting with Nigel. Which means-"

"His house will be empty," Mark finished.

"Exactly!" Gary looked far too pleased with himself. 

"What?" Jason looked at them both dubiously. "So we're breaking into houses now?"

"He turned Mark into a girl. I think we should be allowed to break into his house to fix it."

"And how are we going to break in to a house, exactly? Have you taken up picking locks as well as writing songs?"

Gary didn't answer; he just looked at Howard. They all looked at Howard.

"Christ. You admit to getting done for grafitting _one_ bus and everyone thinks you're a criminal mastermind."

"You are from Droylsden," Jason said.

"Like Wythenshawe's much better."

Jason only raised an eyebrow, but that was apparently enough to make Howard admit all.

"Okay, I might have known someone who knew someone who taught me how to break into a house. But I only ever did it when my mum locked me out!"

"That happen often?" Jason said.

"More often than you'd think," Howard mumbled, just barely audibly. 

"It's settled." Gary looked incredibly pleased with himself. But then, he always did when he was sorting out problems, whether musical or logistical. Mark supposed they were going to have to add magical to that list. "We go to Richards' house on Friday night, Howard breaks in, we find what we need to change Mark back-"

"And we all live happily ever after." Jason did not look like someone who believed in a happily ever after ending just at the moment.

"Right!" Gary, on the other hand, did not look like someone who doubted that his brilliant plan was going to work. Mark decided he was going to side with Gary in this situation.

"That's brilliant, Gaz." He gave Gary a hug, then gave one to each of the other boys for good measure, ending with Rob.

He should have felt happy. This was what he wanted, after all. He wanted to be himself, wanted to be a boy again. But he'd long since realized that getting what you wanted came with a cost. And in this case, he wasn't even sure what the cost would be. He'd only just started realizing the possibilities of being a girl, and he was going to lose it again. It hardly seemed fair.

The others were ahead of him, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they headed back to the studio, but Mark found himself hanging back.

"You alright, Markie?" Rob put an arm around his shoulder and spoke softly in his ear.

"Yeah." He forced himself to smile and hoped Rob wouldn't notice that he didn't quite mean it. "It's just, I can't wait. Two days and I'll be back to being myself."

Two days, and girls would go back to being mysterious creatures that either baffled him or, if they were his sister, irritated him. Two days, and he'd lose any chance of understanding the good bits of being a girl. Two days, and he might lose the chance of ever snogging Rob properly.

Two days wasn't long, but perhaps it was enough. And perhaps having only two days would make him as brave as he needed to be.

"C'mon, Rob." This time his smile felt slightly more real. "I'll race you to the studio. Bet we can beat them all."

And they did.

* * *

Mark threw himself completely into the rehearsal when they got back. He managed a back flip on his own, and then spent ten minutes doing flips around the studio until he felt giddy and dizzy in equal measure.

At the end of rehearsal, he didn't turn a hair when it came time to shower. He skinned off his clothes with the rest of them, cocked a hip in Howard's direction, blew a kiss at Jason, and laughed when Gary turned bright red.

_If you like the attention, enjoy it. If you don't, tell them to piss off._ Tracy had been absolutely right. He was determined to enjoy every last minute before he got his own body back.

Which meant there was one last thing he needed to do.

He got dressed with the others, not minding when they all watched to see how he bound his breasts so they didn't show. When everyone else began to file out of the changing room, he hung back, and grabbed Rob by the wrist. Rob turned to him, eyebrow raised, his mouth twisted in a bow of confusion.

"I've got something to ask you," Mark said.

"What's that?" Rob looked an intriguing combination of curious and worried. Mark wasn't honestly sure if what he was about to ask would calm his worries or make them worse, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"I want to go out dancing tomorrow night."

"So?" Rob still didn't seem to quite get it.

"As a girl."

"Oh." Rob's voice dropped to a whisper, and Mark saw the worry on his face displaced by shock. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause as Rob looked at him cautiously.

"Mark, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yeah." There were no two ways around it, that's exactly what he was doing. And now he just had to hope that Rob wouldn't be offended, that he was as intrigued by the possibilities as Mark was.

"Oh."

"So, do you? Want to go on a date with me?"

Mark held his breath and began to count. He told himself if he got to ten without Rob saying anything, he'd say it was all a joke and leave. He got to nine before Rob finally spoke. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do!" Rob gave him a smile, one full of mischief and good humour. And then he did one more thing. He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and kissed him. A proper kiss. One that was wet and sloppy and used tongue.

When Rob pulled back, Mark was breathless.

"Leave it all to me," Rob said, and then turned and ran out the door. "Hey, Howard," he yelled as he disappeared from Mark's sight.

Mark stood there, swaying with shock and surprise and anticipation.

He was going on a date with Rob. God help them both.

* * *

Mark had no idea how he made it through the next day's rehearsals without breaking his neck.

Every time he looked at Rob, he'd get a fluttery feeling in his tummy and he'd blush and trip and otherwise act like a complete numpty. And what was worse, everyone noticed. Paul kept yelling at him, Gary kept laughing at him, and Jason kept looking at him like the poor sad bastard he was. And Howard, he kept whispering with Rob in the corners of the studio and then rolling his eyes. Mark didn't even want to know what those two were talking about.

He showered as quickly as possible—there was no flirting this day—and was dressed before any of them.

"I'll, um, see you tonight," he said to Rob as he backed out of the changing room, feeling more uncertain than the first time he'd asked a girl out.

"Yeah, listen, Mark." Rob looked over at Howard, who gave him a nod. And wasn't _that_ worrying. "I'll pick you up at your place at nine, yeah?"

"Yeah. But wait on the street, okay?" The last thing he needed was for his parents to see him dressed like a girl. His dad would never let him out of the house again.

"Okay." 

Mark turned and ran before he could say anything daft or fall over again.

He made it home and through dinner without any further disasters, but then he went up to his room and he realized something: he didn't have a fucking clue how to dress like a girl.

What had he been thinking? This was never going to work. Did he think he was just going to walk into a club wearing trackie bottoms and a t-shirt? He wouldn't have done that in his own body. He certainly wasn't going to do it in this one.

He stuck his head out his bedroom door and could hear strains of Madonna wafting down the hall. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to ask Tracy for help. Again.

He knocked on her door and got the predictable response.

"Go away."

"Tracy," he hissed. "I need your help."

"Or, for fuck's…" The door opened, and Tracy waved him in. "What is it now, Mark?"

"I'm, um, well…" He stammered and blushed and looked down at the floor.

"Just say it, Mark. It can't be any more shocking than you turning into a girl."

"I'm going on a date," he blurted out. "With Rob. And I don't know what to wear, and I don't have any makeup, and I want to look pretty, and could you please help?" The words came out in a rush that left him breathless.

Tracy stared at him with a frown, as if she were trying to decide if he was worth helping. But finally she sighed and nodded.

"I suppose I have to help you, don't I? You've got to uphold the honour of the Owen women."

"Thank you so much, Tracy." He gave her a hug, which she tolerated for ten seconds before she pushed him away.

"Get off. Now let's try and find you something to wear."

It getting close to nine by the time they finally had an outfit they were both happy with: leggings, a skirt, and a lacy sweater over a lacy bra.

"Thank god you're my size," Tracy had said when they were looking through her drawer of underthings. "You couldn't get away with just a vest this time."

"This is going to work, isn't it?" Mark scrambled into the clothes.

"It should do." Tracy looked him up and down. "You can wear your own Doc Martens and puffy jacket. There's just the makeup to sort. Sit down, you."

Mark sat down obediently, watching as Tracy pulled out her makeup bag and got down to work. She started with the blush, and was just moving on to the eyeshadow when there was a rattling at the door.

"Tracy, can I borrow-?" Daniel threw open the door, and then froze, all thoughts of what he wanted to borrow apparently thrown from his head by the sight of his sister dressing his big brother up like a girl. Mark froze himself, and hoped Daniel hadn't noticed that he really was a girl. Tracy just turned a glare on their brother.

"So help me God, Daniel Owen, if you say anything to Mum and Dad about this I will stab you with a fork." Tracy's expression was fierce, and Mark made note to try not to piss his sister off in the future.

Daniel, for his part, gaped at the two of them, then turned around and walked out of the room.

"And remember to knock the next time!" Tracy shouted after him.

"Won't he tell Mum?" That was the last thing he needed, his little brother grassing him up to their mum.

"Not if he knows what's good for him. Now, close your eyes."

Mark closed his eyes and felt the feather touch of the makeup brush on his eyelids. Tracy let him open his eyes as she completed the rest of his makeup, the mascara and lip gloss. When she was done she gave a satisfied nod.

"You'll do. Go on, then. Take a look."

Mark hesitated for a moment, afraid of what he'd find in the mirror behind him. But then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes once again, and turned.

When he opened his eyes, he nearly stopped breathing. The person looking back at him in the mirror was definitely female and undeniably beautiful. For the first time, Mark felt like more than a boy trapped in a girl's body. He began to feel more like this body was his own, like he could be comfortable in it. Like he could be a she, if he had to.

"Fuckin' hell, Tracy," he whispered.

"I should have known you'd make a pretty girl. You look better--"

He turned back to his sister and gave her a hug that stopped whatever stupid thing she was going to say.

"Thank you. For everything."

Tracy hugged him back for a few seconds, but then she pushed him away in exasperation.

"Get away. You'll muss up your makeup."

"I mean it. I'd never have got through this without you." 

For a brief moment, Mark saw his sister's eyes get a bit wet, saw her mouth waver.

"I know," Tracy said. Then the moment passed, and she was his annoying little sister again. "Rob better watch himself. If he doesn't treat you right, another boy'll be waiting to pull you."

Mark laughed. 

"What are you going to call yourself?" Tracy asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't be Mark. Not when you're dressed like that. You need a girl's name."

After all he'd been through this week, he'd thought he'd never blush again, but for some reason the thought of choosing a girl's name made his cheeks flush one more time. 

"Why don't you pick a name?" he said, reluctant to choose his own. As if that would be one more step towards admitting he was always going to be a girl.

"Really?" Tracy looked pleased, which made Mark feel happy himself.

"Really."

"Okay." She looked at him closely for over a minute, walking around as she did so. Finally, she stopped in front of him, arms crossed in front of her. "How about Patty? It uses your middle name, so you might be less inclined to forget it. And it sort of suits you."

"Patty is perfect," Mark agreed.

"Alright, Patty Owen," Tracy said, spinning away from him and rooting through a drawer. "There's just one more thing you need." She turned back to him and pressed something into his hand. He turned red yet again as he looked at the two foil packets clutched in his hand.

"Why-?"

"I told you before you shouldn't let Rob get you pregnant. I wasn't joking." And she did look dead serious. "I know a girl or two who's got pregnant the last year. And who knows what it would mean for you. It might mean you'd be stuck as a girl forever. You wouldn't want that."

"No. No, I wouldn't." Mark shook his head, though that started him wondering if it would be so bad, being a girl, having a baby. 

"Then you make sure you use those." She turned away from him and threw open the window. "I'll pop downstairs and get your boots and jacket, and then I'll show you my secret escape route out of this place."

* * *

Mark was just finishing tying up his boots when he heard the blast of a car horn outside.

"That must be Rob," he said, shrugging into his jacket, even as he wondered where Rob had got a car from.

"Off you go, then, big sister." Tracy gave him a push towards the window, and he stuck his tongue out at her. "Remember what I said."

"I'm not likely to forget the condoms in my pocket, am I?" Mark said as he swung one leg out of the window. Tracy just gave him a cuff, and then he was climbing down the brickwork. Which, wearing a skirt and his Docs, was more difficult than he'd expected. Tracy must be a brilliant climber if she snuck out this way.

He hit the ground, made for the pavement, and found Rob waiting in Howard's battered Fiesta. Which explained Rob's conspiring with Howard, at least. He slipped into the passenger seat and gave Rob a smile that he hoped didn't look as nervous as it felt. Rob gave him an admiring once over.

"You're a bit of a stunner, Mark."

"Thanks." His smile this time felt less nervous. "Tracy helped."

"My sister wouldn't have helped me. She'd still be pointing and laughing."

"That's because you spend all your time annoying her."

"There is that." Rob grinned.

"How did you talk Howard into lending you his car?" Mark settled into the passenger seat and fought the urge to put his boots on the dash. That wouldn't do in a skirt.

"I just asked him. Told him I wanted to take you out." Rob leaned in close to him. "I think he's got a bit of a soft spot for you, Markie. And not just 'cause you're a girl."

"Shut up!" Mark blushed and laughed at the same time, and shoved an elbow in Rob's ribs. "And you know, you can't call me that once we get to the club."

"What? Markie?"

"Yeah. I'm a girl, Rob. For all intents and purposes, anyway. Tracy reckons I should use a girl's name there. She suggested Patty. She reckoned I'd be less likely to forget it if it was close to my middle name." Mark chewed his lip and waited for Rob's reaction.

Rob looked at him closely.

"I reckon she's right. And you look a bit like a Patty." He squinted his eyes. "Come closer for a sec, would you?"

Mark leaned closer, not knowing quite what to expect. Before he knew it was happening, Rob had grabbed the back of his neck and was giving him a thorough kiss. One that made all the fluttery feelings Mark had had during the day seem positively tame.

Finally, just as Mark was beginning to hope that Rob's idea of a date consisted entirely of snogging in Howard's car, Rob pulled back and gave him a smug look.

"Thought so. You taste like a Patty, too."

"Bastard." Mark punched him in the arm.

"Tell you what, though."

"What?"

"You don't hit like a Patty."

Just for that, Mark hit him again.

"Ow!"

"Are we going dancing?"

"We are, if you'll stop battering me. You're leaving bruises, you."

"I'll stop battering you if you stop being a prat." This wasn't quite how he'd seen his date with Rob starting out.

"You wouldn't recognize me if I stopped being a prat." Rob crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and Mark couldn't help but laugh.

"C'mon." He leaned in and gave Rob a quick kiss. "You can be a prat all you like once you get me on the dance floor." 

They risked their fake IDs at The Haçienda, and from the start Mark attracted more attention than he'd ever done as a boy. Even with Rob at his side, there were boys looking at him, boys chatting him up, boys asking him to dance. Tracy had been right: if "Patty" had wanted to get rid of Rob, there'd have been plenty of boys waiting to pull her.

But he didn't to pull another boy and he didn't want to get rid of Rob. Rob was the reason he was here, and he pulled him onto the dance floor as soon as they'd checked their coats. He'd never felt quite so in tune with Rob. It was better than scoring a goal with one of his mates on his old football team. It was better even than doing one of the band's routines with Rob, because this time the choreography was their own, done for the joy of it.

They danced for hours, as the crowd grew denser and they were pushed closer and closer together on the dance floor, until finally, during a slow number, Mark felt as if he could feel the beating of Rob's heart in his own chest. Their bodies pressed together, Mark was as conscious as he'd ever been of the changes to his body, of the breasts that brushed Rob's chest, of the fact that he lacked a dick and Rob didn't. He let his hands drift to Rob's back and held him, even as he Rob's arms surrounded him.

He felt as if they were in their own private world, as if none of the hundreds of people surrounding them existed. He looked up, feeling conscious of the way his neck arched, and feeling that it was entirely right when Rob bent down and touched their lips together. The touch was light at first, barely a kiss, but grew stronger as Mark became lost in the sensations of Rob's mouth, of the heat and the taste of him, of the way it felt to run his tongue over Rob's teeth. He clutched at the back of Rob's shirt, and moaned in frustration as Rob pulled away from him.

He opened his eyes, and found Rob staring down at him. Rob's eyes were gleaming with the reflected glow of the lights, and his chest was heaving.

Rob leaned forward and spoke in his ear, his breath tickling Mark's skin.

"Let's get out of here, yeah?"

Mark nodded, and then let Rob take him by the hand and lead him off the dance floor, to the coat check, out of the club, where the winter air struck his face, driving the breath from his lungs and the last doubts from his mind.

They got in the car in a jumble of arms and legs, and tumbled into the back seat. Mark ended up on top of Rob, his hands framing Rob's face as Rob looked up at him, expectant, and trembling, and keen.

He was going to do this. _They_ were going to do this.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the foil packets Tracy had given him, and saw Rob's eyes go wide.

"You sure, Markie?"

He could back out, could turn this into nothing more than a snog and a fumble. Because the thought of having sex with Rob wasn't just scary, it was fucking terrifying. But it was also more exciting than anything he'd ever done. More than the first time they'd played a gig, more than the first time he'd had sex with a girl. 

And this was the only chance he was going to have for this. After tomorrow, if everything went according to their admittedly dodgy plan, he'd be himself again. He'd be a boy, and he wasn't sure if he'd have the nerve to tell Rob he still wanted to be with him, and he wasn't sure if Rob would want _this_ if he wasn't a girl.

He looked closely at Rob and saw the same terror he felt reflected in Rob's eyes. But he also saw the same excitement, the same eagerness, and he knew they couldn't stop now.

"Yeah." His voice croaked and he didn't trust himself to say any more, so he just pressed the packet into Rob's hand. 

Time slowed to a crawl, became a hard-to-move-through fluid. He found himself concentrating on small details: the care and tenderness Rob showed as he helped him shed clothes, the cold of the car seats on exposed skin, the surprised sounds Rob made as they came together, and the mist of their breath mingling together.

It was odd being on the other side of it all, being the girl bedded and not the boy doing the bedding. Odd, but satisfying, the way desire burned away pain, the way he could make Rob part of him, the way pleasure hit so hard and so long. Then it was over, and they lay there, panting and wrapped around each other.

"Fuck," Rob finally said when he could talk at all. He collapsed, his face buried in the crook of Mark's neck, though whether it was because his arms couldn't support him or because he couldn't look him in the eye, Mark didn't know.

He did know that he didn't want to let go of him. He tightened his arms around Rob, gripped him tighter with his legs, but he knew it couldn't last. It's not like the back seat of a Fiesta was an especially comfortable place to be, and it was fucking freezing.

Rob was the first to speak.

"That was brilliant, Mark, but I'm freezing my bollocks off."

It was typical Rob, and it made Mark laugh, but it Mark could also tell it was as much about diversion as actual cheekiness. It was Rob deflecting any actual feelings he might have about this into a joke. And Mark decided that wasn't on.

He didn't let go of Rob. In fact, he held Rob even tighter. Then he twisted until he could kiss Rob, until he could bite his lip and lick his chin, and whispered something that couldn't be said out loud, and never in the light of day:

"Love you, mate."

He felt Rob stiffen for a moment, and wondered if he'd gone too far. But then Rob relaxed and held Mark tight

"Love you, too." Rob's words were so quiet Mark almost thought he'd imagined them, but he couldn't have imagined the expression on Rob's face when he turned to him. He looked shocked and happy and in awe.

Only then did they reluctantly separate. They sorted themselves out without a word, but the silence wasn't awkward. It was as perfect as the rest of the night had been.

They crawled back to the front seat, and Mark felt as if his whole body was tingling, as if his skin could throw off sparks. Rob fumbled for the keys, but before he could start the car, Mark grabbed his jacket, and pulled him in close. He took his time with this kiss, made it count, made it last, until he finally pulled away with a grin he couldn't control.

Rob stared at him, his lips parted, his breath beginning to come fast again.

"You're dangerous, you," Rob said with a pout. "Doing that to me when I've got to drive."

"I trust you," Mark said, and then held Rob's gaze with his own, willing him to understand exactly how much he meant it.

"I know you do, Markie. And that's a bit terrifying." Rob swallowed. "I'm not exactly trustworthy."

"Whoever told you that was full of rubbish." He grabbed Rob's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'll always trust you, Rob. Always."

"Maybe you shouldn't." Rob's voice was barely a whisper, and he suddenly looked stricken. "What's going to happen? After tomorrow night?"

"I don't know," Mark admitted. "But that doesn't mean tonight wasn't brilliant."

Rob grinned, and that was more like it. Things were going to be alright if Rob could still smile like that.

"Now, get me home before I turn into a pumpkin."

"Skinny thing like you, you're more of a courgette."

The teasing continued, from both of them, all the way back to Oldham. It was how they always behaved together, and Mark took it to mean everything was fine between them, even if things had changed past all imagining. 

When Rob pulled to a stop in front of his house, Mark didn't make a move to leave, he just grabbed Rob's hand and held it.

"Don't want this night to end," he said without looking up.

"Me neither." Rob's voice sounded rougher than usual, but then he cleared his throat. "No help for it, though. We've got rehearsal tomorrow, and Howard'll have me if I don't get him his car back."

"I don't want Howard to batter you." Mark slowly released Rob's hand.

"And we don't want to be late for rehearsal. If Paul tells Nigel…" Rob left the rest of that thought go unspoken, but they both had been on the receiving end of multiple bollockings by Nigel. 

"We can't be late for rehearsal, then." Mark put his hand on the door handle, and only then did he look back at Rob. "Thank you. For everything." Then he bolted from the car before Rob could say anything else.

He waited until he heard Rob drive off before he risked his key in the lock and opened the front door. He shed boots and jacket, and then he crept up the stairs in bare feet. He was nearly at his own room when he heard a door open, and he froze in fear.

"Mark," Tracy hissed, and he relaxed. At least he wasn't going to be discovered in a skirt and smudged makeup by his mum.

"You were never waiting up for me," he whispered back. 

She didn't answer, just grabbed him and pulled him back to her room.

"How did it go?" She looked as concerned as Mark would feel if she'd just gone on a date with one of her dodgier classmates.

He stood there and tried to sort through what had happened and his feelings, and tried to put it in words, but he couldn't. Instead, he felt a smile forming on his face. A real isn't-the-world-a-beautiful-place sort of smile.

"I assume I'm not getting those condoms back, then."

Mark just smiled wider.

"Oh, my God." She rolled her eyes, and then sat him down on her bed. "Let's get that makeup off you. You don't want to Mum wondering how you got mascara all over your pillowcase."

Mark let Tracy clean off the makeup and pack him off to bed. He fell asleep immediately, and dreamed all night of Rob and the club and what they'd done in the back seat of Howard's car.

* * *

He knew not to be late for rehearsal. They all did. He'd told Rob last night they couldn't be late. But here it was nearly 900 and he was just waking up.

"Shit."

He must have slept through his alarm. And Daniel's alarm. And everyone else in the house getting up. 

"Fuck."

Fear of Paul telling Nigel he was late swept away every last ounce of his euphoria from the night before. He jumped at a knock on the door.

"Mark, love," his mum said. "I'm off to work. Shouldn't you be up?"

"Yeah, Mum. I'm awake." He jumped out of bed and threw his clothes for the day together and ran to the shower, just missing colliding with his mum in the hall.

"Watch out, slugabed." 

He took the world's shortest shower, making sure there was no trace of last night's makeup left, scrambled into his clothes, and headed downstairs. He managed to burn his toast, scald his mouth on his tea, and took forever to find his keys. And then he missed every connection on the way in to Manchester. He supposed it was a miracle that he was only an hour late for rehearsal.

"So nice of you to join us, Owen," Paul bellowed across the studio floor. Mark stammered out an apology and avoided the looks of the other boys as he threw off his jacket and started warming up.

"Fifty press-ups, if you please, Owen," Paul said. 

"Fifty?"

"And fifty sit-ups. But I can make it a hundred of each if you like." Paul sounded like he was enjoying that far too much. There were times he was almost as bad as Nigel.

Mark shut up and started on the press-ups. He finished the sit-ups before he dared to look over at the others, worried by what Rob might have told them. He wasn't comforted by what he saw.

Rob was staring at him with a besotted grin. Gary had turned red to the top of his ears, Jason was wearing a nervous smile, and Howard...Howard was giving him the smuggest look he'd ever seen.

He'd told them. Rob had told them. Everything.

Not that Mark had sworn him to secrecy or anything, but he hadn't thought he'd tell them all right away. He'd wanted it to be their secret, for a few hours at least. He suddenly knew how all the girls that had managed to avoid Nigel's notice and slip into their dressing rooms and B&Bs would feel if they'd found out how they'd been talked about.

He felt ill. And he couldn't do a thing about it. Not with Paul watching.

He struggled through the morning rehearsal, then legged it as soon as Paul called a break for lunch, not wanting to face any of them. Not even Rob. Especially not Rob. He made it in and out of the bakery in record time, and then headed for the park by the college. He settled on a cold bench to eat his butty, even though every bite sat like lead in his stomach.

Half an hour, he told himself. Half an hour on his own and he'd be ready to face the others. He should have known he wouldn't get it. He should have known that Rob would find him.

"Mark?"

He looked up to find Rob staring at him with a worried expression. He very nearly threw up. He did find himself looking around the park like a trapped animal, judging the likelihood that he could escape from Rob. The odds weren't in his favour.

"What's wrong, Markie?" Rob sounded lost and confused, as if he had no idea what was wrong. And maybe he didn't.

"You told them," Mark said, and saw Rob flinch at his tone. "You told them everything, didn't you?"

"'Course I told them. Well, Howard asked. And then Jason had to know, and Gary overheard. But it's just the boys. We always talk about-" Rob stopped himself, and then gaped at Mark in alarm.

"We always talk about the birds, Rob. The ones that rate and the ones that don't. The ones who are just worth a shag. But I can tell you now, it's a rotten thing to do."

"Shit, Mark. I didn't..." Rob sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. It was a sign of how miserable he felt that Mark didn't lean into Rob like he had always done. Instead he shrank down inside himself. Rob cleared his throat and spoke again. "I told you I wasn't trustworthy."

That finally made Mark look up. Because, Christ, Rob sounded so miserable. 

"I'm always saying the wrong thing," Rob continued. "Always pissing people off. And I don't mean to." He squeezed Mark's shoulders tightly. "I really didn't mean to piss you off, Markie."

"I'm not pissed off." Mark took a deep breath and tried to sort out just what he was feeling. "I'm disappointed. And I'm scared. And I just want to be me again."

"You are you."

"You know what I mean." He blew his hair out of his face. "I want to be a boy again."

Rob got a strange look on his face, one that was part disappointment, part determination. He slowly pulled away from Mark and sat with his hands clutched in his lap.

"Tonight, Markie. Tonight you'll be a boy again." He stood. "But for now we should go back. Paul's in a shitty mood anyway. He'll be worse if we're late getting back."

Mark nodded. The day had been hard enough already. No need to make it even harder.

He stood and began to walk out of the park, only to have Rob stop him with a hug. 

"I never meant to hurt you, Mark. Not in a million years."

"I know you didn't, Rob." _But you did, Rob. You really did._ Those words hung unspoken between them. They walked back to the studio, both of them putting as much distance between them as the pavement would allow.

When they got back to the studio, the others were waiting outside, looking anxious.

"You okay, Markie?" Howard asked.

"Yeah." It wasn't quite a lie. "I just want all this to be over."

"Yeah, I bet you do." Howard put Rob in a head lock. "Shagging this muppet would put me off being a girl, too."

Mark gasped, and Jason and Gary looked at him sharply, even as Rob struggled to break Howard's grip.

"Let go, Dougie," Rob choked out. Howard ignored him.

"I'd rather shag Jay," Howard continued.

"I don't know if that's comforting or worrying," Jason said.

"I'd rather shag Jason Donovan," Gary smirked.

"You wouldn't be pretty enough to shag him, Gaz," Howard said. "Not like our Mark. You'd be lucky to pull an old geezer like Cliff Richard."

Gary looked affronted, and Jason snickered, and Howard finally let go of Rob. And just like that, Mark realized how ridiculous it all was. And how lucky he was to have such good friends.

"You're all mental," he giggled.

"You've said that before."

"Because it's true."

"Must make you mental too. You're one of us."

"Yeah, I am." He jumped up and gave Howard a hug. "I'm definitely one of you."

"Well, let's get going before Nigel sacks all of us and we're on the dole line."

* * *

Mark stood in front of his house, hoodie pulled up over his head, hands jammed into his pockets. Howard was late.

When Gary had balked at using his car for the break in, Howard had volunteered to pick them all up. "As long as you all put in a quid for the petrol," he'd added. But he was supposed to have been here half an hour ago, and he was late, and Mark was beginning to wonder if Howard had bottled it and he was going to be stuck a girl forever.

Just as he was about to go back inside and call Howard, a familiar, battered Fiesta came 'round the corner and squealed to a stop in front of him.

"Sorry, Markie," Howard said as Mark scrambled into the back seat, settling between Rob and Jay. "Traffic was horrible."

"How got lost in Stoke," Rob said with a grin, and then knocked Mark lightly in the elbow.

"I didn't get lost. Gaz can't navigate."

"Oi!" Gary yelped from his place in the front seat. "It wasn't my navigation. It's you that can't follow directions."

"They've been like that all evening," Jason said as he leaned into Mark. "Best to ignore them."

Howard and Gary bickered all the way to Crumpsall, with Rob waiting to stir things up even as Jason tried to settled things down. Mark didn't reckon the arguments were about traffic or getting lost or Howard's ability or inability to navigate his way around Manchester. They were a distraction, a way of avoiding the fact that they were on their way to break into the home of a man who was powerful enough to change Mark into a girl. And no distraction could take Mark's mind off that. He sat quietly between Rob and Jay the whole way, fighting desperately not to bite his nails.

The house, when they found it, wasn't quite what Mark had been expecting. In his mind, Richards owned an old mansion out of a Hammer horror film. In reality, his house was an old brick Victorian, bigger by far than the house Mark had grown up in, but not as imposing as he'd imagined. There was an overgrown hedge at the front, a lane beside it, and not a light on inside. It looked like Ying's information about Richards travelling to London had been right.

They all trooped up together to the front door, the others hanging back to let Howard lead the way. Howard stood in front of the big wooden door and looked closely at its lock and its hinges. After what seemed like forever, he finally took a step back, looked around to make sure there was no one on the street watching, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a credit card.

"That's it?" Rob groaned. "That's your big secret method of breaking into a house? A credit card? I could have fucking figured that out."

"It's all you need for these older doors," Howard said, bristling. "There's no deadbolt on them. And anyway, it's harder than it looks, popping a lock with a credit card."

"Go on, then, Ronnie Kray. Show us how it's done."

Howard worked the credit card into the crack between the door and the frame, and wiggled it for a second until there was a click. Then he turned and stuck out his tongue at Rob.

"C'mon, boys," Gary said. "No playing about. Let's get in and do what we need to."

When they were all in the dark hall, Gary closed the door, eliminating even the dim light from the street. As the door closed, Mark felt a shudder pass through him and he froze in place. He felt like he'd done when he met Richards at Nigel's party, as if the essence of the man remained in his house.

"What are we looking for?" Jason asked as he turned on the torch he'd brought with him.

"Tracy thinks we just need to find the hair Richards took from me." Mark stared into the darkness, trying to decide if he'd seen movement down the hall or if he was just being paranoid. "Or a spell book. Or something."

"Let's hope whatever it is we're looking for is conveniently labelled," Gary said. He started down the hall, towards the stairs looming up before them.

Mark tried to move to follow him, but couldn't.

"I can't move," he said, and even in this darkened house his voice sounded too quiet.

"C'mon, Markie." Rob took hold of his hand. "I've got you." But as hard as Rob pulled him, Mark couldn't budge past an invisible line five feet from the front door. It was as if he was being physically restrained from moving further into the house. As if the house knew him, and was keeping him out. And that was bleeding terrifying.

"You all should go on." He didn't want to stay here alone. Not in a dark house, a house that seemed to know him and didn't like him one bit. But he needed them to find his hair or the spell to fix him. And if they didn't do it tonight, he had the horrible feeling that they never would.

"I'll stay with you, Mark." Rob put his arm around him.

"No need. I'll be fine on my own." That was a lie, but he needed the others to believe it.

Judging by the stricken look Rob gave him, he didn't believe it one bit. In fact, none of the others looked convinced. But Gary took the lead as he so often did and urged them all forward.

"We'll be back as soon as we can, Mark." Gary gave him a quick smile that was echoed by Jason and Howard, and then they were all moving away from him, down the hall, and up the stairs. Mark watched them from where he stood trapped, watched the light of their torches grow weak and the sound of their footsteps grow fainter until it was just him here, alone in this strange dark house.

He didn't like being alone. Being alone gave him too much time to think about things. Like what if they couldn't find his hair or a way to reverse whatever Richards had done to him? Or what if the house decided not to let them leave? Or what if it decided to make the others disappear? Or make him disappear?

All of those things, of course, were distractions from the bigger problem. What was he going to do if he had to keep being a girl? And what would happen with Rob if he managed to turn back into a boy? He didn't want to keep being a girl. But he equally didn't want to lose what he'd found with Rob. 

He thought he heard a distant scraping and held his breath, waiting fruitlessly for the sound to be repeated. He'd just about convinced himself he'd been imagining things when he heard the sound again, slightly louder this time.

"Rob?" he called out. "Gaz?"

There was more nothing for several long minutes, but then there was a loud bang that made him jump, and a crash that sounded like loads of books falling off a shelf, and then there was one more sound.

"Markie!" It was Rob's voice, high and panicked and very far away.

"Rob!" he yelled, and then tried pushing forward past the invisible barrier that was holding him. "Rob!" He couldn't break through.

There was an even louder crash, and then all the lights came on in the house. He closed his eyes for a moment against the brightness, and when he opened them again he could see people at the top of the stairs. Five people. Rob and Gaz, Howard and Jason, and the man from Nigel's party. Arthur Richards. Richards was at the rear, and as they descended the stairs, Mark could see that Richards had Howard's arm twisted behind him, and that Jason was giving Howard concerned looks all the way down. Gary looked upset and Rob looked fucking terrified. And Richards, he looked completely calm, totally unfazed at finding five young men invading his house.

Mark wasn't sure how he knew it, but he could tell that Richards had done something to all of the boys, something that made them do what he wanted. And he could tell that none of them liked it one bit.

"You let them go!" he shouted at the man who'd caused him such grief, and who seemed to be hurting his friends.

"I don't think you're in any position to order me to do anything," Richards said with the same rich baritone Mark remembered from a week ago. "You've broken into my home. I'd be well within my rights to call the police."

"Why don't you, then?" Mark was past caring if the lot of them ended up with a prison record at this point. In fact, he was beginning to think that might be the safest thing that could happen.

"Oh, that wouldn't be nearly as much fun, my dear boy." Richards deliberately let go of Howard's arm, and then he made a gesture with his right hand and Mark felt something tear in the air, as if a connection between Richards and his friends had been broken.

Mark pushed forward, and this time the house let him through. He stumbled forward and Rob caught him. Beside them, Jason had placed himself protectively between Howard and Richards as Howard rubbed his wrist. Gary moved towards Richards, his expression both fearful and determined.

"You leave my friends alone."

"Are they really your friends?" Richards' expression was curious, and Gary's response was immediate.

"Of course they're my friends." Gary sounded affronted, which was comforting. Even after all the months they'd been together, Mark sometimes wondered what Gary thought of them all.

"Your feelings do you credit," Richards said and raised an eyebrow. "Do the rest of you feel the same?"

"Of course," Jason said.

"Yeah," Howard mumbled.

"What sort of daft question is that?" asked Rob.

"Nigel chose better than he knows," Richards said quietly. "You're lucky, Mark Owen. Not many people have such good friends."

"Can you change him back?" Rob held Mark tightly against him.

"I can," Richards said, and then there was a flash, and he was holding a small lock of light brown hair between thumb and forefinger. "Do you want me to?"

"Of course he does," Rob said, his attitude blustering, but Mark noticed that he blushed slightly at his own words.

"What about you, Mark Owen? Do you want to change back?"

Mark opened his mouth to say _yes_ , but nothing came out.

"Or do you want to stay a girl?"

_No!_ , Mark tried to say, but he still had no voice.

"You need to be absolutely sure before you answer," Richards said. "You can only choose once." And then Richards cocked his head and looked at him as if he were waiting for the outcome of an interesting science experiment, not deciding the course of Mark's life.

Between Richards looking at him and Rob clutching tightly at his shoulder, Mark found he couldn't think. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought back over the last week.

He thought of how frightening it had been to wake up in this body. He thought of how difficult it had been to avoid being found out, of how disconcerting it had been to have the others fancy him. And he thought of how brilliant it had been to finally get used to this body, of how Tracy had helped him out so much. And finally, he thought of how close having this body had brought him to Rob, of how fantastic the sex had been. If he went back to being a boy, he might never have that again. He didn't know if Rob was gay. As much as he loved Rob, he wasn't even sure if he was gay himself.

He opened his eyes and looked at Rob. Rob looked utterly panicked. His mouth was twisted and his eyebrows were drawn together.

Mark knew what his answer had to be, but he also knew it was going to be harder than he thought. Before he spoke, he leaned in close to Rob and kissed him. He didn't care that the other boys were there, that Richards was watching. He needed this. He needed to taste Rob one more time. Then he reluctantly pulled back, pulled out of Rob's arms, and turned to Richards.

"I want to be a boy again," he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

Richards didn't say anything in reply. He only nodded, snapped the fingers holding the hair, and the lock disappeared in a flash of sound and colour.

"Done," Richards said when the sound and light had faded.

Mark felt no different.

"But nothing's changed," he said. "I'm still a girl."

"You will get what you want," Richards said. "You will all get what you want." He let his gaze sweep over all of them, and Mark thought it lingered on Jason just a moment longer than the others. "I hope you appreciate how rare that is. And how difficult."

The boys stared back, unmoving, as if they weren't certain what to do next. Even Gary looked hesitant. Just as he'd known he needed to return to his body, Mark knew he needed to lead them now.

"C'mon, lads, time to go." He grabbed Rob's arm, then pushed Gary forward. Jason followed them, his arm protectively around Howard, who was still gingerly holding the arm Richards had twisted. 

"Mark Owen," Richards said, and Mark stopped and looked at the man who'd caused such disruption in his life. "I hope the next time someone tells you you're as pretty as a girl, you won't see it as an insult."

"I won't," he said and nodded. Then they were out the door and in the cold, night air, and Mark felt like he could breathe properly for the first time tonight.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Howard said, "but I could use a pint or seven."

* * *

For the second time in a week, Mark woke up feeling as if someone had scraped out his skull with a dull butter knife. He head was throbbing and he felt like he might throw up at any moment. That was the last time he was going to try and match pints with Howard. 

He opened one eye, and was blinded by the sunlight pouring into the room.

"Fucking hell." He stuck his head under the pillow, scratched his balls, and waited for the pounding behind his eyes to die down.

Wait.

He had balls. He stuck his hands down his pants, and that was definitely his dick. He sat up and pulled up his top. No breasts. He felt his face, and there was definitely the beginnings of fluffy stubble there.

He was running down the hall and banging on Tracy's bedroom door before he knew it.

"Open up, Tracy."

"Go away, Daniel."

"It's Mark."

"Go away, Mark."

"Open the door, Tracy. I've got something to tell you."

"Christ." Mark heard Tracy moving around, and then the door was opening. He pushed inside before Tracy was even out of the way. "What's so important?"

He didn't say anything, he just pulled his top up to his chin. And this time Tracy didn't laugh.

"Oh, Mark…" She gave him a hug, and he twirled her around the room.

"I'm a boy again," he said as he put her down. "I'm me!"

"You never stopped being you. You were just as annoying as a girl." She gave him a wistful smile. "It might have been nice to have a sister, though, instead of two brothers. We could have ganged up on Daniel. And it was fun doing your makeup."

"Yeah, it was," Mark admitted. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll tell them you're a liar."

She scrunched up her face and gave him a swat.

"I'll tell you what, though. It's no fair, you getting turned into a girl and not having to go through a period, at least once."

"I'm glad I didn't." Mark shuddered at the thought. "It's bad enough having to deal with you when you're on the rag. You're completely mental for a week." 

"You bastard," Tracy yelled, and then tackled him to her bed. 

Mark might have been slightly bigger, but Tracy had the element of surprise on her side and was willing to fight dirty. She had him pinned him down and was tickling him, with much shrieking and yelling, when the door flew open.

"What's going on?" said their mum. "It sounds like you're murdering each other in here."

"Sorry, Mum." Tracy let go of Mark and stood up.

"Sorry," Mark said, even if the grin on his face showed he wasn't sorry at all.

"A little peace and quiet on a Saturday morning wouldn't come amiss," Marie Owen said, and started to leave. But then she hesitated and turned back to face them. "You're looking better, Mark. Are you sure you haven't been ill this week? You haven't been quite yourself."

"I'm fine, Mum," Mark said as he tried to keep a straight face.

"He has been a bit under the weather," Tracy said with a giggle. Mark gave her elbow in the ribs for her trouble.

"Hmmm," Marie Owen said, giving them both suspicious looks before she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

"A bit under the weather?" Mark gave Tracy a smack on the arm. "Why didn't you just tell her I've been a girl for the past week?"

"It's tempting." Tracy laughed. "Can you imagine what she'd say?"

"Or Dad?"

"I'm sure they would have got used to it. Eventually."

"You're rotten, you." Mark collapsed on the floor, his back against the wall, and Tracy sat beside him.

"You don't mean that." She rested her head on his shoulder. And she was right. He didn't mean it at all.

"No, I don't. I couldn't have survived the last week without you, Tracy. You saved me life."

"Awww." She tousled his hair and sat up to look at him. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean? Now everything goes back to normal."

"But does it?" She got suddenly serious. "What are you going to do about Rob?"

"Fuck." In his excitement at being back to his old self, Mark had forgotten about Rob. He rested his chin on his knees.

"Is he going to be your boyfriend?"

"I don't know, Tracy."

"Is he gay?"

"I don't know."

"Are you gay?"

"I don't know." His voice squawked, and he looked up at Tracy, thinking she was taking the piss. But she looked quite serious.

They sat quietly on the floor, leaning against each other, until Tracy finally spoke again.

"It seems to me," she said, "that you've got to figure out how you feel, and what you want to happen. And then you need to talk to Rob."

"Is that your expert opinion?"

"Yeah," she said with a grin. "Because I reckon I'm the only girl in Manchester who's had her brother magically turned into a girl. So that makes me the expert." She stuck out her tongue at him, and earned another swat for her trouble.

"Expert troublemaker."

"You should call him."

"No!" The mere thought made Mark breathe faster. "Not until I know what to tell him."

"You've got to let him know the spell worked, at least."

"I'll call Gaz. He can tell the others. He loves being the one in charge."

"If you're sure." Tracy's expression made it clear she wasn't sure at all.

"I am." Mark crossed him arms. "I need to think. By Monday I'll know exactly what to say."

He only hoped that was true.

* * *

Monday morning came, and Mark had still had no big revelation, no sign from above telling him what to do about Rob. He barely slept Sunday night, and was up before his alarm and everyone else in the house. By the time his mum came downstairs to start making breakfast, he was dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, nervously twirling a mug of tea.

"You're up early, love." His mum gave him a suspicious look, and he tried his best to look innocent.

"Just want to get an early start."

"Hmmm," she said as she put the oatmeal on the cooker. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you, Mark? If you were in trouble?" She kept her eyes on the pot she was stirring, but Mark could tell she was watching him from the corner of her eye.

"I'm not in trouble."

"But you would tell me?" She looked up at him then, her eyes full of love and worry.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would." Mark told himself it wasn't a lie. If he'd been stuck permanently in a girl's body, he'd have told his mum. Eventually. He wouldn't have had much choice. But what else would he tell her, and what counted as being in trouble? Did being in love with Rob count? Did being gay? Was he gay?

"That's alright, then," she said, and then walked over and gave him a quick hug before turning back to the oatmeal. "I'll have your breakfast ready in a few minutes."

"I'm not hungry." He stood and pushed his chair away from the table. "I'll get something in Manchester."

"Mind you look after yourself, Mark Owen."

"I will, Mum."

He spent the ride into Manchester going over his mum's words, and trying to decide if he was in trouble. The closer he got to the studio, the worse he felt, until there he was, an hour early, stood across the street from the building, thinking he was going to be physically ill. 

He couldn't go in, not yet. He didn't want to be the first one there, didn't want to watch everyone's reaction as they came in. So he turned around, took a walk by the canal, by the university, by the gay clubs, shuttered and tatty looking in the daylight. Not that the extra time made anything any easier.

He finally looked at his watch, and instead of being an hour early, he was now ten minutes late. He felt a jolt of fear shock his system. Nigel would be back today. On top of everything else, he didn't think he could handle a bollocking by Nigel for being late. Or simply for being. He took off at a run.

Five minutes later, he crossed the threshold of the studio, out of breath and bracing himself for the yelling.

But the yelling didn't come. Not from Nigel, anyway. The first thing he heard was Howard's voice yelling "Markie!" across the studio floor. As he stood frozen in the doorway, he was bowled over by Howard, Jason, and Gary, all of them speaking at once.

"You're here!" Howard said.

"You look great," came from Jason.

"Glad you're back, Markie," said Gaz.

The only one who hadn't mobbed him, hadn't patted him on the back or given him a hug, was Rob. Rob was hanging back, a look midway between shame and embarrassment on his face.

And then there was Nigel and Paul, of course, standing by the mirrors, arms crossed.

"Get back over here, you lot," Nigel said. "You've just seen Mark a few days ago. Let's not treat him like the prodigal returned because he's a few minutes late. And you, Owen." Nigel looked right at him, and it wasn't a friendly look. "I'll deal with you later."

Mark ducked his head down and tried not to worry about what Nigel had in mind for him, tried not to worry about what was going through Rob's head. He shed his jacket and took his position and got down to work with the others.

The rehearsal went…not well. After a week in a girl's body, he had to adjust to his own all over again. Different centre of gravity, different flexibility, different everything. He was back to not managing the back flips at all, and his shoulder spins were horrible.

But the worst part, worse than the dancing, worse than the threatening looks Nigel kept throwing his way, was Rob. Rob kept avoiding him. He wouldn't come near him, he wouldn't look at him. It was as if he was pretending Mark wasn't there at all. And that made Mark miserable. It also made Tracy's advice about talking to Rob entirely moot. He couldn't talk to him if Rob wouldn't look him in the eye.

By the end of the day, he was wondering if he shouldn't just pack it in. Quit the band, and quit Robbie. It would probably make Nigel happy. He could find that other cute boy from Oldham he was always threatening Mark with. And maybe Rob wouldn't look quite so miserable if he weren't around.

Then Paul was wrapping things up, and Jason slung his arm around him as they headed for the changing room, and Mark could see Howard talking to Rob, their heads together as they walked ahead of them.

They were just inside the changing room, when he heard Gary talking to Nigel.

"We'll lock up, Nige," Gary said. "The boys want to show me one last move."

Since when was Gary volunteering to learn a dance move? Mark turned to Jason to say as much, but Jason was looking at Howard, and Howard was nodding, and then the two of them legged it out of the room and slammed the door behind them, leaving Mark and Rob stood there like a couple of numpties.

Mark ran for the door and tried to open it, but the others had either barricaded it shut or they were holding it. First Tracy and now the boys. Why the fuck did people keep locking him in rooms with Robbie?

"Let us out," he said, pounding on the door.

"Not until you two talk." Jason sounded remarkably reasonable for someone suggesting such a naff plan.

"We've got nothing to talk about."

"Pull the other one, Markie," Howard said. "It's got bells on."

"Gary." Mark rested his palm against the door. "Tell them to open the door, would you?"

"No way, Mark. Whose idea do you think it was to lock you in there?"

"Fuck," Mark whispered.

He looked up to find Rob hadn't moved an inch. He was stood there, as far as he could get from Mark, hands dropped to his side, his mouth a thin line and his eyes looking everywhere but at Mark.

"I'm sorry, Rob. I'm so sorry." Mark looked down at the floor and worried at the edge of his t-shirt. "I didn't mean to mix you up in this. You don't have to worry. I won't do anything. I'll stay away from—"

There was a blur of movement, and then Rob had tackled him and Mark was on the floor with Rob on top of him. Rob kissed him, his tongue running along Mark's bottom lip. Mark closed his eyes and gasped, and Rob deepened the kiss, their tongues touching and twining as Rob clutched at his hair with one hand and gently stroked his cheek with the other.

Mark felt bereft when Rob finally pulled away. He opened his eyes and found Rob looking down at him, his expression determined.

"Now you listen to me," Rob said, poking Mark firmly in the chest. "I'm not sorry at all and I _am_ mixed up in this, and you fucking better not stay away from me." He bent down again and kissed him again, the contact as fierce as the fire in his eyes, as fierce as his words.

Mark reluctantly pushed him back.

"But you're not gay."

"I think I am, actually." Rob grinned. "Or bi, maybe. I still fancy birds, and you were fucking hot as a girl."

"I don't know if _I'm_ gay." It couldn't be this easy. It just couldn't.

"I bet you are," Rob said happily as he wriggled against him, and Mark could tell his dick agreed with Rob.

"Nigel will kill us."

"Since when did you care what Nigel thought?" Rob kissed his nose. "We've hidden things from him before. We can do it again."

"You've thought this all through, haven't you?" Mark was caught somewhere between awe and annoyance.

"Had the whole weekend to do it, didn't I?" He gave Mark a cuff on the side of the head. "Would have been easier if you'd fuckin' called me, though."

"Sorry." Mark gave him a sheepish grin. "I didn't think you'd still want me."

"That's why you should have talked to me."

"Yeah." It sounded so simple now, even if it had seemed impossible for the past two days. He let his hand drift up and caressed Rob's lower lip with his thumb. "I suppose we should let the others know we're alright now."

"Nah." Rob kissed him again and then grinned. "Let 'em wait." Then he leaned in and kissed Mark until the other boys finally knocked on the door and broke in on them. 

And for once, Mark didn't give a toss what anyone else thought.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The house looked different in the daylight: more dilapidated, less imposing. Jason could see the paint peeling off the window frames, and the rubbish in the lane running down the side. There were no lights on in the house, no movement within, but in spite of all that, he was sure its owner was at home. And he was completely convinced that owner knew Jason was out here, stood on the pavement, deciding what to do.

"Right, then," he said to no one in particular, then put his hand on the rusted wrought iron gate and pushed it open. He winced at the creaking, scraping sound it made, and froze for a moment. He felt like a hunter who'd stepped on a branch as he'd approached his very large and very dangerous prey.

"This is stupid," he whispered, but started moving anyway. Less than half a dozen steps and he was standing in front of the house's door, one hand raised to knock.

_I'd rather shag Jay,_ Howard had said. And that had made Jason's heart pound faster, because there was no one he wanted more than Howard. He'd wanted him from the start, when Howard had wandered into Nigel's audition late, and Jason had decided he'd never seen such a beautiful man. But Howard had never seemed interested in him. Not as he was. But if he were a girl...

Not a girl forever. But for a few days. For a week, like Mark. Because being a girl had got Rob for Mark, and seeing them together now was a constant reminder to Jason of what he didn't have. Of what he wanted. 

_You will all get what you want,_ the magician had said, and given Jason a small shred of hope. That hope had brought Jason back here to this door.

He raised his hand and knocked.


End file.
